


RUMInations

by AgeOfAlejandro



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Character Death, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-01-29
Updated: 2012-01-28
Packaged: 2017-10-30 06:52:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/328980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgeOfAlejandro/pseuds/AgeOfAlejandro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Whirlwind stories of angst, sadness, and anger, but most of all, love. Inspired by the poetry of Rumi.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Kernels and Wine

" _This that is tormented and very tired  
_ _tortured with restraints like a madman,  
this heart.  
Still you keep breaking the shell  
for a taste of its kernel." _

by Rumi, _The Many Wines_

* * *

Sirius was half broken, locked in his childhood hell with no escape. At least as a boy he could go out to London and walk around. Now, he was prevented from such a simple thing by Dumbledore's reluctant orders and the on-going man hunt for him, trapped instead in the rotting black opulence of Grimmauld Place.

He had gone past the point of stir-craziness; instead he simply lay on couches or slouched in chairs and got drunk. Not blackout drunk, but forget-your-woes drunk. Remus came home one evening to find him lounging on their bed, half naked, and tipsy.

"Remus!" he called, looking more cheerful than he had in weeks. "Come sit with me!"

Remus could not help but smile—Sirius had always been a happy drunk and here _he_ was again, like always. This was closer to the real Sirius, the one who would have been able to break free if Wormtail had not escaped (part of Remus wanted to catch and brutally murder Peter before dragging his corpse to the Ministry for all to see so Sirius would, at last, be _free_ ).

"Reeeeeemus," Sirius coaxed when he had not moved yet, " _Please_?"

A smile. "All right, all right." Remus settled next to Sirius on the bed, the white cotton sheets cool through his clothing.

Sirius stared at him, a smile crinkling his eyes, and tilted his head side to side against the pillow.

"What?"

"Nothing," he said and took a swig of what Remus thought was cabernet, "nothing."

"Right," agreed Remus skeptically.

Sirius grinned impishly at him and put the bottle on the bedside table before rolled over to curl around Remus's body for a moment, resting his nose against the rough fabric of Remus's pantleg. With a laugh, he rolled away and tugged Remus down to kiss his lips. Remus tasted the oak and berry of the wine in his mouth and smiled when Sirius tried to deepen the kiss.

He pulled away, "Didn't we learn early on that drunk sex is sloppy sex?"

Sirius pouted, licking his lips in the candlelight.

"When you sober up you can have your wicked way with me," Remus said after a moment.

"Swear?" Sirius asked.

"I swear." Remus nodded.

Sirius tugged him down to lie next to him on the bed and reached over his body to pick up the bottle. "Drink with me in the mean time," he suggested.

"You'll never get laid at this rate," Remus laughed as he accepted the wine and took a sip.

Sirius grunted. "Sex in the morning or whenever we run out. I'd rather drink with you if I can't have sex."

* * *

The next morning, Remus awoke to a pained groan.

"Oooh, that was a little too much last night..."

He cracked an eye open and smiled. He hadn't had nearly as much as Sirius and was feeling quite himself, rather than like a trampled dog (Sirius's favorite way to describe hangovers). "Fresh hangover potion on the left hand side of your table," he said softly.

Sirius must have heard him because there was the sound of wood against wood as the drawer slid open, the gentle clinking of phials, and the pop of a cork. He could hear Sirius swallowing in the warm morning silence.

After a moment, Sirius rolled over to face him and paused, "Did you fall asleep with your shirt on?" he asked with a soft laugh.

Remus peered down at his chest, discovering that he had. "Apparently." He peeled the shirt off and tossed it on the floor, now clad only in his boxers (he had remembered to do away with his pants last night, evidently).

Sirius grinned at him and rested his head against Remus's shoulder. Silence reigned, broken only by their breathing and the occasional shifting under the covers.

"Remus?" Sirius asked after some time had passed, "do you think I'll ever get out of here?" He looked hopeful.

Debating how to answer this, Remus bought himself time by pressing a kiss into Sirius's messy morning hair. "I think so, though I can't say when. Peter will probably make himself known at some point in the near future I suspect. He won't hide away forever, not the glory hog that he is."

Sirius seemed to consider this. "First thing we're going to do when I get out of here is go to Fortescue's. And then to a quidditch game."

"Such simple desires," Remus murmured into his ear.

"When have I ever wanted opulence? It's just gilt, Remus, gilt painted on lead. I know that. I want what's real, not illusions. Besides," he smiled up at Remus, "ice cream is decadent enough on its own—what do I need with the likes of sorbet or gelato?"


	2. Insomnia

" _When I am with you, we stay up all night.  
When you're not here, I can't go to sleep.  
Praise God for these two insomnias,_ _  
and the difference between them!_

 

Sirius had had detention tonight (three weeks in and five detentions already!), so he hadn't been able to go on the monthly romp through the forest. Instead, he had scrubbed flagstones 'till they shone and his fingers were raw before returning to his empty dorm.

Grousing to himself, he tossed and turned in his bed, periodically glaring at the moon flooding through the open window. Finally, he yanked his velvet bed curtains shut and tried to relax enough to go to sleep. He tried a trick Remus had taught him recently...

" _Breathe in slowly, hold it, and then exhale and imagine the tension flowing out with your breath." Remus instructed a moody and sleep deprived Sirius. It was three in the morning._

" _Sounds like quackery." Sirius raised an disgruntled eyebrow at him._

_Remus sighed impatiently, "It's not. I've been using it for years to sleep before a moon. It usually works. "_

_Grudgingly, Sirius tried it and with each breath, felt the tension in his shoulders and back disappear. He hummed in approval and drifted off to sleep, leaving a smiling Remus on the edge of his bed._

It didn't work tonight. He kept imagining Remus, James, and Peter frolicking through the moonlit woods without him. He huffed with annoyance and resigned himself to a sleepless night.

 

James smiled at him with sleepy amusement the next morning when he trudged down into the empty common room.

"Long night with your beloved scrub brush?"

"Oh shut up. Long night in an empty dorm," Sirius grumbled.

"You should have come with us, just shown up late," James commented, idly tracing a carving in the wooden table he sat at with one long finger.

"What, fashionably late to a midnight romp? I don't think Moony would have appreciated that."

"Wolves can't tell time," James reminded him, looking bemused. "He was lonely with only me and Peter, you know. Wouldn't shut up, and he kept whuffling and whining."

Sirius winced and ran a hand through his hair, "How is he, by the way?"

"Remus? More cut up than usual, but ok other than that, I think. You've always been the one to check him over and I don't really know how," James admitted.

Peter cracked an eye open, "I'm pretty sure he's all right. I don't know as much as you do, either, but I know more than James," he ignored James's disdainful sniff. "He should be fine soon enough."

Sirius nodded, still unhappy. "All right."

They visited Remus before dinner and he thanked them tiredly when they deposited his school work on the chair next to his bed.

"Hey," Sirius said softly, sitting on the very edge of Remus's bed, "I'm sorry I couldn't make it last night."

"I know," Remus stretched and yawned, "It's all right. That was a spectacular prank so I think it was worth it."

Sirius wanted to tell him that the prank didn't make up for the brutal gashes that the new shiny, pink scars evidenced, not one little bit. He placed a hand on Remus's shoulder, opened his mouth, and then stopped, his jaw shutting with an audible click.

"What?"

Sirius shook his head, "Nothing. I was going to say something pointless, is all."

Remus looked at him with vague curiosity. "All right then," he said, not pushing it any further.

That night was yet another sleepless night. The night following the moon always was since the dorm felt empty without Remus there, but worse than usual since Sirius felt guilty about the night before.

The following morning Remus appeared, looking mostly himself and with a smile on his face. He settled himself between Sirius and Peter, helping himself to a bit of fruit and some eggs. Sirius was still not quite done feeling guilty about the whole thing and Remus seemed to notice this.

He gently nudged Sirius's side, "Buck up. It's not a big deal, Sirius." He turned to peer at his friend, "I don't actually know why you still feel guilty."

"I don't know either...I just do," he replied.

Remus hummed and shrugged, "All right. Let me know when you let go of this." He turned back to his breakfast.

Sirius shot him an unnoticed and mild glare.

Dinner drew to a close and Remus disappeared off to the library to finish his assignments, leaving Sirius to skulk around the dorm by himself, since James was at practice and Peter was off pranking by himself. He hadn't felt he could join Remus this evening—it was still too awkward for him. He had no idea why but it was; Sirius got the feeling he was blowing things out of proportion.

Just before curfew, Remus returned, dumping his books on the end of his bed and flopping on it. Sirius picked his way through James's and Peter's ever-expanding mess and settled on the side of the bed. Remus looked over at him with a raised eyebrow, "Are you done?"

"Done with what?" asked Sirius innocently, a faint smile hovering on his lips.

Remus nodded, "Good."

Sirius chuckled.

"You look tired," said Remus concernedly after a minute of silence.

"Not easy to sleep with a empty dorm," came Sirius's reply.

"You had James and Peter here last night; it wasn't empty."

"Still didn't feel right," he explained. "The night after a full moon, when you're gone, the dorm feels...weird. Empty."

"Ah," said Remus, nodding wisely.

"Yes, 'ah,'" agreed Sirius with amusement.

"Hush," he replied with a mock scowl. "What else am I going to say?"

"'Oh,' for one," Sirius quipped.

Remus rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to dignify that with an answer."

"You just did!"

Remus grinned at him, reached up for a pillow, and walloped him with it.

"Oi!" Sirius tugged the offending pillow out of Remus's hands and smacked him back.

"Get your own pillow!" Remus laughed, trying to reclaim it.

"That would require me to fight my way passed that green singing thing under Peter's bed," Sirius replied, holding the pillow just out of Remus's reach.

"You did it to get over here," Remus reminded him, making one last lunge for it before giving up.

"It was asleep," Sirius told him.

Remus nodded with a smirk. "Little musical snores are a good sign that Bearnard's asleep."

" _Bearnard_?" Sirius asked, bemused. "I didn't know we had named it—him, whatever."

"You missed the naming convention when you were serving your first detention," Remus told him.

"And you neglected to inform me?" asked Sirius, looking devastated.

"If you recall, you returned whooping and crowing about something you had done," Remus reminded him. "I never was clear on what it was."

Sirius grinned, "Time-delayed pranks, Remus. They're the wave of the future."

"Oh? It hasn't gone off yet, then?"

"No indeed," Sirius said happily.

Remus smirked, "Do tell."

"Well," Sirius began, "It involves a house elf, a rubber chicken, Peter's underwear, and a shoulder-mounted catapult..."

Morning dawned and Sirius was still explaining the prank to a laughing Remus.


	3. Come This Way

_Drumsound rises on the air,  
its throb, my heart._

_A voice inside the beat says,  
"I know you're tired,  
but come. This is the way."_

* * *

It was three weeks until the next moon and Remus felt as though he had transformed _yesterday_. His bones hurt, his muscles were sore, and he felt frustrated and desperate about the situation with the packs. Dealing with them was disheartening and left him feeling drained, like a thin rag someone had wrung out and left in the sun.

The pack members' arguments rang with truth quite often. Most wizards ( _they_ said all, he said most) were terrified of werewolves and treated them like shit. They didn't want werewolves cleaning the streets, much less _teaching_ their children, as one had pointed out with a snide smile for Remus. What was the point of fighting for the Ministry and its citizens if werewolves were forbidden from even the most menial of jobs?

He had tried to point out the illogical nature of helping Voldemort, who, he reminded them, would kill them as soon as they had outlived their usefulness. They had sneered and the same man who had made the earlier remark noted that at least if they were helping the Dark Lord, they would get their revenge and perhaps take a few purebloods with them.

Shaking his head and feeling three times his age he limped through the yellow street lamp light towards the front door of Grimmauld Place, hoping to catch food and a nap, preferably with Sirius, before the meeting started.

Luck was not with him. The Order was converging on the dark little kitchen when he entered the room and Sirius caught his eye, sending an apologetic expression his way and patting the bench next to him.

Remus smiled tiredly and made his way over to take the seat. "Anything left to eat?" he asked softly as he dropped on to the bench.

"I think so," Sirius nodded. "Molly?" he asked as everyone scuttled around the table, looking for empty spots.

"Yes, Sirius?" she asked him, eying Tonks and Bill as they chatted.

"Anything left for dear old Remus of that fabulous stew you made?" he wheedled.

She looked over at them and Remus smiled at her. He knew he looked a wreck and the eternal Marauder urged him to play that up in hopes of more food. It made Remus smile a little bit more. "I believe there is." Molly switched into Mother Mode and went about making a bowl of it for him.

"Thank you, Molly," Remus said earnestly as she deposited the steaming bowl of stew and a piece of bread in front of him. "I really appreciate it."

She smiled fondly at him. "You're welcome, dear," she said before returning to watching Tonks and Bill.

As Remus started to dig into his stew, Sirius smiled at him again and leaned closer. "Rough couple days?"

"You have _no_ idea," Remus said between bites. "They decided to haze me before they'd let me talk at all and, Jesus, it was an obstacle course! I had to do it every day I wanted to talk."

Sirius nodded, a small, wry smile quirking his lips, "Not so easy to jump railings and run mazes at our age, is it?"

"No," Remus sighed. "It's not."

Dumbledore appeared and immediately the room settled down, an attentive hush descending. "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," he said evenly. "Before we begin, is there anything of immediate, pressing concern?"

Romilda Archer immediately spoke up, but as soon as she started going on about the potential corruption of owl treats as a means of limiting communication, Remus went back to his soup.  
The meeting was mostly uneventful. Or rather, no more alarming than was usual for an Order meeting. The wizarding world was closer to killing itself than ever before, but the pace hadn't changed drastically so there was no reason for extra worry. His was the last report and Remus delivered it calmly, ignoring Snape's usual scorn and nodding politely when Albus told him that securing the packs' neutrality was of grave importance so he must be more diligent about gaining it.

After the meeting let out Remus and Sirius made their way upstairs, Sirius silently seething over Dumbledore's implications that Remus wasn't trying hard enough.

When they reached the top of the dark stair, Remus stopped and Sirius almost bumped into him. "Hush, Sirius," he said, placing a hand on Sirius's waist and running a thumb over the material of his vest. "He has a lot on his mind and doesn't really see—"

"He _should_ see what it does to you, Remus!" Sirius interrupted with a furious hiss. "You come back from these meetings looking like the dead—"

Remus glared tiredly at him, "Thanks."

Sirius sighed, "That's not what I mean and you know it. You look exhausted, Remus. Drained and pale. He should _see_ that."

"But he doesn't, Sirius—he's just human. He's juggling the Order, Hogwarts, and politics all at the same time. He sees the results I can't give him, not how exhausted I become _trying_ to give them."

Sirius looked sad, "You forgive too much, Moony."

"I know," Remus leaned closer and brushed his lips over Sirius's. "I know."

"Come on then," Sirius sighed again. "To bed with us."

"You don't have to go sleep now just because I am," Remus objected.

"I know. I want to, though. I hardly ever get to see you and we can talk a little before we sleep," Sirius said, taking Remus's hand.

Remus nodded and allowed himself be lead into their bedroom. Sirius insisted on divesting him of his clothes and then sent him to take a quick shower while he tidied up their room. Remus kept the shower short and was soon back. He smiled at Sirius's humming as he put away the books that had accumulated on the floor of his side of the bed, and rummaged through a pile of freshly folded clothing on the desk when he felt Sirius come up behind him and rest his chin on Remus's shoulder.

"Do you need underwear to sleep?" Sirius asked him, sounding vaguely amused.

"For pajamas," Remus explained. He felt a wicked smile curl Sirius's lips against his neck. "No sex tonight, so yes, pajamas."

"I wasn't even thinking about sex—any more than normal anyway," he chuckled. "I was just thinking how much nicer sleeping naked is." Another smile and Remus felt Sirius's lips against his neck. "We both know you like to cuddle. Skin to skin cuddling is always nicer—"

"Than skin to cotton cuddling?" Remus asked, smiling himself.

"Yes," Sirius replied shortly. "I know you're exhausted so I swear I won't even think about making moves on you tonight, naked or not."

Remus rested his head against Sirius's. "All right. I'm too lazy to look for underpants anyway." He paused before adding, "You did wash the sheets, right?"

"Of course," Sirius nodded. "This very morning."

Remus smiled again. "Right then," he said, removing his towel and draping it over the desk chair. "But you have to be naked, too."

Sirius nodded. "Naturally," he said and started on his shirt. "I did say skin to skin, didn't I?"

Remus smiled at him and moved to sit on the bed, watching his boyfriend strip. Even if he wasn't interested in sex at the moment it didn't mean he didn't like watching the unveiling of Sirius's body.

As soon as he was naked himself, Sirius gently pushed Remus over. "Under the sheets," he urged. As soon as Remus had complied, he was rewarded with the cuddling he was so fond of and it hardly took any time at all before he had drifted off to sleep.


	4. Stay With Me

_Then the new events said to me,  
"Don't move, a sublime generosity is  
coming toward you."_

_An old love said, "Stay with me."_

_I said, "I will."_

* * *

Rain sounded against the roof of Remus's ramshackle cottage and he drifted towards consciousness on a warm, wet summer morning. After a time he looked over at the other side of the bed, occupied for the first time in many years. He could not help but smile.

Remus lay in bed for a while longer, enjoying the sound of rain and the smell of it as it wafted through the open window, the soft breeze ruffling piles of paper sitting on the wooden desk, and the coolness of the air on his foot sticking over the edge of the mattress. Thoughts of tea entered his mind and he got out of bed, hunting for underwear in a pile of laundry waiting to be put away.

A soft, sleepy call, "Come back to bed?"

He looked over and saw Sirius blearily looking at him over his shoulder, his messy hair dark against the pillow. He smiled at Remus in the half light of the cloudy morning.

"All right," Remus said, abandoning his quest for underwear and tea. He climbed back into the warm bed with a contented hum.


	5. Like This?

_When someone mentions the gracefulness  
of the nightsky, climb on the roof  
and dance and say,_  
Like this?

* * *

Unless there was an exam in the morning or a paper due, Sirius, Remus, Peter, and James always spent the new moon night on the astronomy tower, ducking the caretaker and drinking butter beer in the starlight.  
Tonight, Sirius was telling them a story about the time he hit Andromeda with a tartanella jinx and she spent the next twenty minutes tap dancing until she could find her wand.

"She almost tripped on her mother's cat, too!" he laughed, imitating Andromeda's dance. "I've never heard that mangy cat yowl so loud as when Andy stepped on her tail." Sirius continued to jig for a moment, his hands held out for balance as he jumped and tapped his feet, a dark, graceful shape against the starry night. His face was lit by bluebell flames Peter kept in a jar and he threw his head back with a private laugh.

James grinned, anticipating a hilarious story. "What're you laughing at now, Pads?"

"My aunt's expression when Andy stomped on the cat's tail. She looked ready to kill, but on her that look tends to resemble constipation more than anything else," Sirius snickered.

"Yeah?" Remus asked. "My cousin Hilde is the same way. Quite hilarious. Our other cousin Greg wrecked her broom when she was nine and he asked her if she had to use the bathroom."

"Ah," Peter grinned as the others snickered, "potty humor. Refuge of all little boys."

"And some big ones, too," Remus added, shooting Sirius a look.

"I can't help it if you don't understand the glory of poop jokes," Sirius said with mock disdain.

James and Remus both shook their heads and Peter laughed at him.

* * *

 _When someone quotes the poetic old image  
about clouds gradually uncovering the moon,  
slowly loosen knot by know the strings  
of your robe.  
_ Like this?

* * *

"No," Sirius said and stepped back. Remus frowned; he had never backed away from sex before.

"Everything all right?" he asked, concerned and puzzled.

"Oh yes," said Sirius, deceptively calm, and then he smiled devilishly. "I want to do something different, that's all."

"Good." Remus smiled at him. "I was wondering if you were, I dunno, sick or something."

Sirius laughed, "No. And you know, flu sex is hot." He laughed again when Remus wrinkled his nose. "I'm only kidding."

"Good," said Remus. "I wasn't about oblige you next time you were sick." He paused, a sly look coming over his face. "What exactly was it you were thinking about doing tonight, hm?"

Sirius's expression became equally sly, "Sit down on the bed and you'll find out."

"Ooh," Remus grinned, looking pleased. "A show?"

"Indeed," Sirius laughed wickedly.

When he was sure he had Remus's complete attention, he slipped off his vest, unbuttoning it slowly. It slid off his shoulders and dropped to the floor. Long fingers fiddled with his shirt and then, button by button, he revealed pale skin, smooth in the light of the half moon shinning through the tall open windows. After dropping his shirt, he moved to his black pants, the zip shining silver and the button glinting brass as the pants slowly slid down long legs, taking his underwear with them. He stepped out of them and sauntered towards the bed, as confident as he was fully clothed. Sirius leaned againt Remus's knees and played with his shirt buttons.

Sirius purred, "Ready?"

Remus's eyes widened. _"Yes."_

* * *

 _I am a sky where spirits live.  
Stare into this deepening blue,  
while the breeze says a secret.  
_ Like this.

* * *

Sirius never tired of looking at Remus's eyes. They were a lovely cornflower blue and seemed to express everything Remus ever felt. They widened in surprise, darkened with lust, glazed over with pleasure, and conveyed every nuance of feeling from joy to anger. Sirius felt suspended in time for a moment when he met those eyes, no matter what they were saying.

Remus leaned in, staring into Sirius's eyes and he was transfixed. _"I love you,"_ Remus whispered.

* * *

 _When someone asks what there is to do,  
Light the candle in his hand.  
_ Like this.

* * *

Remus's expression was concerned as he leaned towards Sirius, sitting next to his prone form on the couch. "What can I do to make this easier for you?"

Sirius glared at him from under his crossed arms, "There isn't much _anyone_ can do."

Remus sighed, "Pads, don't be difficult. There has to be something I can do to make Grimmauld more bearable."

He mulled it over and then smiled. "Be you. Be there. You and Harry."

Remus smiled at him and pecked him on the lips, "I will."


	6. Race in the Long Grass

_Today, like every other day, we wake up empty  
and frightened. Don't open the door to the study  
and begin reading. Take down a musical instrument._

_Let the beauty we love be what we do.  
There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground.  
_

* * *

Sirius had always thought the day he was inevitably disowned, the world would finally glow with the vibrant colors of life that the black velvet decadence of Grimmauld had always shunned. That he would dance like a man mad with joy to be free of the drab, dour world of the Wizarding upper crust. That living on the edge of society would be beautiful.

And in some ways it was. The first day he did dance; he frolicked through the warm summer rain laughing and smiling. The muggles thought he was insane—a young man, wild eyed and dressed in linen and silk, running through the wet streets at dusk with a mad grin on his face.

But once reality set in, he sank. How was he going to pay for school? Where was he going to stay? How was he going to _eat?_ He had left Grimmauld with only his wand, a bit of money, and the clothes on his back.

He surrendered a few precious sickles to ride the Knight Bus to James's house. It was raining there, too and he stood in the drizzle, chucking pebbles at his friend's window. After six little rocks had hit the window, a messy haired and extremely annoyed James popped his head out the window.

"What?" he demanded peevishly, peering around in the dark. "Whoever you are, there better well be a good reason you're here. I was having a lovely nap."

"James," Sirius called, just loud enough to be heard over the hissing rain and James's eyes snapped to him. "James, I got kicked out."

James's expression saddened. "Oh no, Sirius. I'm sorry."

"I'm not," Sirius said flatly. "But I have no where to go. Do you think...?"

"Yeah," James said, "I think. Let's get you out of the rain and then I'll talk to Mum and Dad."

"All right," Sirius replied and walked towards the porch as James disappeared. The porch was wide and white wicker chairs occupied a corner, clustered around a small table. Honeysuckle vines wound through a trellis; their scent was heavy in the air, mixed with the smell of Mrs. Potter's sterling roses and the smell of rain on dry earth. A chill breeze gusted through, the swing bench on the far end on the porch creaking in the wind.

James opened the large oak door that lead into the house, silhouetted by the warm fire of the sitting room. "Come on," he gestured. "Mum and dad said you can for as long as you need to."

Sirius smiled as he walking into the house, "I know I've said this before, but I love your parents, James. They're amazing."

James laughed, "Aren't they just?" He looked at Sirius closely. "You're soaked!" he scolded. "Let's get you some dry clothes," he hustled Sirius towards the staircase that lead to the bedrooms of the Potter household, but Sirius stopped for a moment.

Mr. and Mrs. Potter were curled up together on the burgundy velvet couch that Sirius had coveted since he was fifteen, sipping warm tea. They both looked up at Sirius and smiled.

Mrs. Potter got up. "We're very serious, Sirius, when we said you can stay for as long as you need to." She had always enjoyed that pun.

Sirius smiled gratefully. "Thank you," he said softly, "but I can't give you anything in return besides my gratitude."

Mrs. Potter gave him a wicked smile, "That's more than enough. I stole you out from under Walburga and we need more decent Blacks around, don't you think, cousin?"

Sirius grinned, "Oh indeed. We inevitably get burned off the tapestry, but I think it's worth it." Mrs. Potter was his cousin twice times removed; close enough to acknowledge the relationship, far enough away that familiarities were frowned upon.

She laughed, "All right, Sirius. Quit dripping on my floor and distressing my son. Go get changed and you can have the second bedroom on the left."

"Thank you, Mrs. Potter," he said as he turned towards James.

"Come on," James said, thumping up the stairs. "I think some of Dad's old clothes will fit you."

It was still raining when he woke up the next morning and he sank deeper into his blankets as more questions bombarded Sirius about his future. He couldn't rely on the Potters forever and he would never ask them to pay for his schooling. Where those funds were going to come from, he didn't know.

He spent the next hour worrying, his stomach tied in knots. Fees were due soon, he realized. Three weeks from today, actually. Fuck, Sirius thought and then jumped at the sudden pounding on his door.

"Siiiiiriuus," James sang through the door. "Time to get uuup. We have bacon!"

Bacon was not enough to lure him out of bed at the moment but he didn't want to worry James or his parents by turning down the promise of extra crispy deliciousness. This problem was his and his alone. "All right," he called back, "Gimme a minute to get decent."

"Aw, no wanking in that bed!" James laughed.

"Did I say I was wanking?" Sirius shot back. "Go away or I will!"

"Fine, fine" James said with mock exasperation. "Hurry up though, or Dad will eat all the bacon!"

There was a laughing holler from the kitchen. James's father was denying his tendency to inhale bacon, Sirius guessed.

"Right, Dad, that's not why all the bacon was gone when I got back from the loo yesterday!" James called with a laugh, his voice growing fainter as he descended the stairs.

Mr. Potter's ability to make bacon disappear was indeed legendary so Sirius hurried. He slipped on a pair of jeans and a tee shirt and briefly checked his hair as he exited his room. He scowled for a moment as he went down the stairs. He hated that cowlick and he tried to smooth it out as he entered the sunny kitchen.

Mrs. Potter, wearing a flowery apron, gave him an amused look. "That's a Potter trait, you know, that messy hair." She gestured at her husband and son with a spatula. This morning, their messy heads looked almost exactly alike, though Mr. Potter's was salt and pepper rather than James's shoe polish black. "Sit," she pointed at the fourth table setting. "And get some pancakes before Charles eats them all."

The man in question shot her a look, pretending to be offended. "You all seem think I eat everything in sight." He sniffed. "I have no idea why."

"Dad," James said, scooping up some scrambled eggs, "that's because you do. Unless that everything includes marmalade."

Mrs. Potter nodded, "I must remember to make marmalade out of those raspberries instead of jam." She gave her husband a calculating look.

Mr. Potter gave her a beseeching look. "You know how I love your jam. No marmalade?" he wheedled.

"Yes marmalade," she said firmly. "But also jam. Marmalade is not very good on pancakes."

Mr. Potter looked relieved.

Over the next week, Sirius looked for a job of some sort and contemplated writing to the Headmaster. He was sure Dumbledore had heard about his disowning within a few hours of it happening and the man had likely known it was coming just as much as he had. Sirius also berated himself for not putting money aside while he had access to it. His mother had probably shut down his account before she confronted him.

He didn't eat much, ignoring the looks of worry and concern from the Potters as he pushed food around on his plate meal after meal and he would disappear for a few hours several times a week, outside his job hunting. James fretted but was reluctant to interfere with his friend's gloom, fearing he would inadvertently make it worse.

* * *

Remus and Peter were coming to stay after Sirius had been at the Potters' for two weeks. Both of his friends had exchanged owls with him, Peter trying to console him and Remus trying to cheer him up.

They showed up on the Potter's door step that Monday afternoon, carrying trunks and hostess gifts for Mrs. Potter. She was a notorious plant lover, and she smiled with delight over the peace lily Peter brought and the Spanish lavender Remus gave her.

Sirius put on a brave front, James thought as he watched his friend gossip and laugh with Remus and Peter, but it wasn't quite Sirius.

Peter didn't seem to realize this but James caught worried looks from Remus every now and then.

That night, James pulled Remus aside. His werewolf friend looked rather worn out—the moon was only four days past—and it was a bit late but this was the only time he thought he might get to talk to him.

"James," Remus said quickly, "how bad is Sirius off?"

"Money wise?" James asked, "only a couple galleons to his name. But—"

Remus waved a hand impatiently, "Not _money_. Merlin knows he hasn't got any now. No, I meant—"

"Emotionally," James interrupted, annoyed that Remus had cut him off.

"Yes," Remus nodded.

"Bad. It's not his family of course, but he's really worrying about something." James chewed the inside of his lip.

"Money," Remus nodded.

"Yeah, probably," James agreed.

"Almost certainly," Remus said crisply. "He's always had it, and suddenly he scraping pocket lint. Did his parents already pay for school?"

James paused. "No...probably not, given how he's been eating and desperately hunting for a job."

"No one's hiring?" Remus asked, concerned for his friend.

"More like they won't hire him and risk the wrath of the Blacks," James explained.

Remus nodded solemnly. "Right. He's not eating?" he nodded, worrying again. Sirius usually matched Mr. Potter bite for bite and if he wasn't eating much, well...

"Not really. And he always scrapes the food off his plate before one of us can get it for him, too." James explained.

Remus pursed his lips and looked at James frankly. "You want me to do something."

James nodded. "I always manage to say the wrong thing or make the wrong move when he's depressed like this, or I would have done something already. You're much better at reading people, Remus, especially touchy people like Sirius."

"I have to be," Remus said evenly.

"Part of that whole hide-what-you-are thing, right? Got to know when they're getting suspicious," James nodded.

Remus nodded. "Yeah. Anyway, I'll look for an opportunity to talk to him."

It took two days for an opportunity to appear. Tuesday Sirius went job hunting, but Wednesday he stayed in.

It had rained the night before and Remus had risen before everyone else, as usual. He was sipping tea in the kitchen, staring out the open window and enjoying the fresh green smell that wafted through the grey morning. He heard the slap and stick of clammy feet on the wooden floor at the bottom of the stairs. They stopped in the doorway for a moment.

"Good morning, Sirius," Remus said without turning around. "Want some tea?"

There was a sigh, "How do you always know who it is behind you?" Sirius appeared to Remus's left a moment later.

"I don't always know," Remus shrugged. "But when someone's barefoot and it's early, I can usually guess. Mr. Potter's foot steps are heavier and Mrs. Potter's are almost soundless. Peter wears socks absolutely everywhere _._ You and James have clammy feet in the morning but James never, ever wakes up before nine in the summer." Sirius laughed and Remus smiled at him. "Therefore, it has to be you."

Sirius shook his head with a laugh. "I'm going to wear socks in the morning now, just to spite you."

"You would," Remus chuckled.

They fell silent and Remus noted again how silence was never awkward with Sirius. Sometimes it was with James and he could practically feel Peter clawing at the silence whenever it fell. A long while later, Remus put down his tea and smiled at Sirius. "Come with me," he said.

* * *

Sirius looked at Remus, examining his friend in the heavy morning light. "Where?"

"Out," Remus gestured out the window and stood up.

Sirius felt Remus's smiling anticipation and nodded. "Let me get my shoes," he said, getting up as well and moving toward the stairs.

"No," Remus told him. He gave Sirius a look that was both curious and sad. "Haven't you ever run barefoot in the grass after it rains?"

"Well, no," Sirius admitted. "We didn't really have grass at Grimmauld and my mother would have shrieked like a banshee if I had."

"Mm, well then," Remus said, a smile hovering on his lips, "let's spite your mother and do it. There's nothing like it, Sirius. I do it every time I can." He tilted his head towards the window and looked at Sirius with a challenging look in his eyes. "Race you to the brook."

Sirius an appraising look and grinned. "You're on. I bet I can beat you this time," he said before tearing out the back door, Remus hot on his heels.

The cool wet of the long grass soaked his pant legs and Sirius could feel the wet, soft earth mush under his feet. The grass was soft as he and Remus whipped through it, laughing and talking trash.

"You're even slower than last time!" Remus called, ahead of Sirius.

"No way! It's those long, gangly-ass legs of yours! I demand a handicap!" Sirius laughed.

"I'd still beat you!" Remus told him, briefly turning around as he continued running. Immediately he fell over, disappearing into the green froth.

"You all right, dunderhead?" Sirius asked breathlessly as he came to where Remus lay.

Remus looked up at him from the patch of grass he had flattened. He stood up slowly, clearly checking for injuries. "I think I bruised my elbow," he admitted before flashing Sirius a grin in the grey light. "But I'm still going to beat you!" He took off again for the trees that edged the large meadow the Potter house sat in.

"Brat!" Sirius laughed, racing after Remus.

They dodged and ducked under low branches and jumped from log to rock towards the stream. Sirius expected he was going to regret running barefoot, wincing as he stepped on another sharp little rock. But not enough to regret doing this—this glorious run through high grass with Remus on a wet green morning. He'd do it again every chance he got.

* * *

Hours later, he and Remus returned to the house, panting and laughing. Mrs. and Mr. Potter were up and they smiled at the two boys when they came into the kitchen.

"Sirius," Mrs. Potter called. "A letter came for you." She held out a small cream colored envelope towards him.

Sirius moved to take it from her and cracked the wax seal.

_Dear Sirius,_

_Heard about the little tiff you had with your mother. Sorry I wasn't in the country at the time or you could have stayed with me. But I bet you're quite happy at the Potters' though, eh? Anyway, I've taken the liberty of covering your school expenses and you now have access to my account at Gringotts so you can pay for your books and pranking supplies._

_Alphard_


End file.
